Kon contemplates the cow. Or regards it. Or watches it. Or something.

The cow chews a mouthful of grass, slimy green spit dribbling down its cow-jaws. It doesn't seem to realize it's sinking into a sourly stinky patch of green mud. It certainly hasn't paid any attention to Kon's begging, pleading, or other efforts to lure it out before it gets completely stuck, and it's well on the way to ruining what could have been a not quite so horrible fall day.

Kon could probably lift the cow. Well, no. Superboy could probably lift the cow. Kon… isn't sure he should be using his powers. He also isn't sure who he is if he doesn't. Which is why he can't.

"C'mon, Bessie…" Kon starts again. The cow doesn't look up, but she swishes her tail in a "fuck you, human," kind of way.

Kon considers showing her he's half human, shakes his head, and sighs.

"You can probably lift the cow."

Kon doesn't turn around. "Hey, Tim." Mostly because he's smiling at his sneakers.

"Hey, Kon." Tim doesn't come any closer, either. Kon can hear his smile anyway.

"Turnabout's fair play, huh?" The cow moos like she agrees.

"I'm not here to try to talk you into coming back."

Kon kind of wishes he were. "Then why are you here?"

"To see you."

OK, Kon can't not turn around at that. He has to force himself not to fly. And Tim—

Tim is in civvies.

Jeans and a yellow hoodie and plain combed hair and his eyes are naked. That's a stupid way to put it but Kon can't think of a better one. He hasn't seen Tim's eyes since that night in Gotham, and they weren't his eyes, they were Some Freaky Normal Guy's.

But here Tim is, out of uniform, looking at Kon with blue, naked, unmasked eyes. His eyebrows have a sharp little arch to them, which gets archer when Tim cocks one. "What?"

If Kon replies he's going to say something incredibly stupid. He swallows. The cow makes a low grunting noise that might be cow laughter. "Um. Where's Bart?" Yup, incredibly stupid. As if he's not really, really glad to see Tim and all, as if Tim couldn't get here fifteen different ways.

Tim's smile widens into a kind of gentle smirk. "Checking out Nebraska, I think. He'll be back—"

An orange blur zips past, dragging cooler air. It spins around Kon and slaps into him, and Bart's hugging him with both arms and at least one leg, face shoved into Kon's chest, breathing hard enough that it blows warm through his T-shirt. His hair ruffles back and forth ticklishly beneath Kon's chin.

"—just about now."

"Hi, Kon," Bart says muffled against his chest. That's all he says, and he just hugs Kon tighter. Kon's face is buried in Bart's soft thatch of hair. He's hugging him tightly too. The only person who's hugged him since he— since he left the Titans is Aunt Martha, and she hugs him carefully, lightly, never when Uncle Jon's around. Bart is squeezing Kon with both legs around his waist, hugging him like he could sink into him.

Then there's another hand, pushing up Kon's jacket, wrapped around his wrist. Kon peeks through Bart's hair and Tim's right there. Kon didn't even hear him move up over the pounding of Bart's heart. He's right there with his hand over Kon's pulse, squeezing gently. "We missed you."

Kon just stares at Tim. Everything he's been avoiding, everyone he's been missing—

Tim squeezes a little harder and lets go. "C'mon, Bart, let's let him get the cow." Bart unwraps himself from around Kon, and Kon doesn't hang onto him. Or onto Tim.

"See you at the house!" Bart waves, and he smiles like nothing's ever changed since they all met, like any moment he might start babbling like he always did. But he doesn't, he just zips away. Tim smiles over his shoulder, with both sides of his mouth, and pushes his hands into his pockets as Bart reappears beside him in jeans and a sweater and his dorky knit hat, and they walk quietly away.

Kon stares after them.

Then he stops floating six inches off the ground, and goes and gets the very startled cow.

---

One really big dinner later full of knowing smiles from Aunt Martha and extremely weak attempts at looking comfortable from Uncle Jon — and where does Tim hide that Charming Preppy Guy persona when he's not bamboozling people's guardians and guards?— the three of them are lying on the roof of the barn, looking up at the stars twinkling far away. It's a little nippy. Bart's curled around him like he's got extra joints in his arms and legs, and Tim's hand is wrapped around his wrist again, two fingertips on his pulse. Kon's pretty sure none of the guys at school sit like this with their friends.

None of them nearly slaughtered their friends, either. None of them were born to be weapons.

Kon doesn't wrench free pretty much only because they'd find a way to chase after him, even if he flew. They're Robin and Kid Flash, after all. So he lets them hang onto him, and they keep watching the stars.

It's really quiet. Just the breeze and their breathing, people talking in town and cows occasionally mooing. Kon's never seen Bart this quiet, or Tim this— normal. Like Tim always spends his nights hanging out with friends instead of fighting crime. Like Bart's used to staying still.

"Mmm," Bart says eventually. He snuggles in tighter, hand bare and tight on Kon's ribs, and he's sleek and warm and his hair smells nice, and Kon's pretty sure being hard's against the rules, whatever set of rules apply to watching stars with your best friends after you left your team after you tried to obliterate them. After you broke one of those friends and nearly concussed the other.

Even so, the familiar self-loathing's a little weaker. It's harder to feel quite so shitty when Kon can feel their calm heartbeats on either side of him. It's a little more real that they're OK.

"Your pulse's so steady." Bart snuggles again, cheek pressed against Kon's shoulder. Tim makes a warm indistinct noise.

"Mine?" Kon's pretty sure that made his pulse jump, but Bart nods.

"Yeah," Tim points with his free hand. "Bart, what's that?"

"The Pleiades, In the constellation of Taurus. Out here you can even see the reflective nebula around them." Kon expects another three paragraphs at least, but Bart just presses his face harder against Kon's chest and breathes. It's kind of distracting from everything Kon's supposed to feel, as opposed to what he wants to.

"Hm." Tim stretches, one sleek flexible motion. "The Seven Sisters." Kon's seen him stretch like that in the Robin suit, and out of it. "According to legend, they were once mortals."

"Many legends are based in fact," says Bart, a little muffled by Kon's pec. "Maybe this one is. We should ask Cassie."

Kon winces. Bart and Tim tighten their holds; they so planned that segue. "She misses you, you know," Tim says in a perfectly reasonable ordinary-guy voice, or at least a Bat-level fake of one.

Kon remembers the electric burn of her lasso. He remembers the even more devastating kiss, her tears on his face. If he argues they'll keep going, and if he doesn't say anything he'll keep going, so he grunts.

And they keep going. "Everyone misses you." Bart tilts his head back, and Kon sighs and looks to see what sort of earnest wide eyes Bart's pulling.

Bart doesn't look earnest. He doesn't look like he's lying, either; what he looks like is sneaky, a little like Tim but more obvious. Then Kon can't see anything, because his eyes are closing by reflex, because Bart is kissing him. His mouth's soft and warm, and his heart's speeding up a little, not racing. And he's kissing Kon, and he's good at it; Kon's mouth is already open, and Bart's tongue is warm and wet and fast over his teeth. Kon hasn't been kissed since everything— since he went rogue. He's missed it. He doesn't deserve it.

He jerks back, right into Tim, strong arms and hard bod and soft hoodie. Um. "What was that?"

"A kiss," Bart says in his I-read-it-in-a-book voice, except that he's using it on purpose, because he's totally smirking. Tim breathes a stripped-down version of a laugh. "You looked like you needed one."

"I wha— you can't go around kissing everyone!" Is this like the blender lessons?

No, because Bart completely knows what he's doing here. He leans closer, leans on Kon's chest, and Tim is pressed up behind Kon, and Bart's eyes are twinkling. Actually twinkling. "I can if they need it. Can't I, Tim?"

"You did look like you needed it." That's all Robin, even out of Tim-the-Hoodie-Wearing-Boy's mouth, and sometimes Robin's command voice gets Kon completely hard, and this is one of those times. "You still do."

Kon looks over his shoulder, and Tim's Robin-smirk tells him that was right on cue, before Tim kisses him. Hard, hard and hot and Kon's pushed flat to the roof before his brain's got time to notice anything except Tim's bossy hot mouth and Tim's fingers pressing on his face and Tim's pulse flickering under his thumb. Kon doesn't even know how long he kisses back, as Tim's mouth softens against his and the kiss gets slower and deeper, as he breathes in the way Tim smells without armor and smoke and mask-glue, all warm clean guy.

Then everything comes rushing back, and Kon shudders and dammit, he actually flew back a few inches, or pushed Tim back with his TK, or both. Either way he's gone too far away from Tim and Bart. Story of his fucking life these days.

Kon sits up, pressing his palms against the rough roof to make sure his TK's off; his mouth still tastes like both of their kisses, and they're both half-crouched and eyeing him. He tries to say "what?" and what he says is "How?", and Bart's eyes go round. Tim's go narrow.

Kon's so startled by his own damn mouth it keeps talking without any control at all from his brain. "How can you guys do this? How come you're here? I left the team, I—"

Bart's the speedster, but it's Tim whose fingers land on Kon's mouth. Probably because Bart's smiling at him, grinning at him, eyes the color of honey in the low light. "Yeah, like neither of us ever left," Bart says, voice dripping that's-so-obvious.

"At least you told us where you'd be," Tim adds, looking down so his eyes are hidden by his eyelashes. His fingers are callused against Kon's lips, and Kon remembers how much damage Tim can do with them, and wants to lick them. It's like he keeps forgetting things aren't ok.

"At least you're not still all freaked-out evil. You fought it off. You got better. " Bart pulls Kon's unresisting arm around his shoulders. "Did anyone tell you about Terra? Or Jericho? Remember when I told you about Rose?"

"Ravager?" Kon remembers calling her a crazy freak, and how mad Bart got at him for it. He wonders if she ever felt this awful and wonderful when Bart looked at her with his open, open yellow eyes. He wonders how she still turned away, when Bart smiled like Kon knows he did, like she was still his friend, just like he's smiling now.

"At least you're not dead." Tim's mouth is twisted in nothing like a smile. Bart puts his other hand on Tim's shoulder, and they're so close… Kon gives up, and pulls Tim in and squeezes Bart. Tim's hand slides around the back of his neck, and they all hang onto each other for a moment. Or twenty.

It's a total group hug. Kon has to laugh. Tim gets it, and snickers against his chest. Bart looks up confused. "What's so funny?"

"Nothing. C'mon, we'd better get inside." It's not like they can't climb down, but Kon's a few feet up in the air before he realizes he hasn't let go of them. Bart squeaks happily, waving his feet.

Tim rolls his eyes, but it's not like he's trying to hurt Kon for it, or even wiggling out of the hold. "What's wrong with the roof?"

"Dude." It's almost like usual. "I should've known you'd want to be on the highest thing possible, but the Kents—"

"Are on the other side of the house." Tim's totally giving Kon shit, just because he can.

"Just because Bats live outside at night doesn't mean all mammals have to," says Bart. Kon blinks, and then snickers as Tim widens the glare of moderate death to include him; when he flies them at the barn window Tim reaches out to open it, and Bart pulls it shut behind them. It's almost like the last couple of months—

—well, no, they happened, and it's like a cliche that as soon as he thinks it Kon falls out of the air with a thump that shakes bits of hay out of the loft. But he doesn't drop anyone, and Tim and Bart wander out into the hay while Kon's still brushing himself off. "It's kind of sproingy!" Only Bart would bounce up and down on a hay bale.

"The blanket's more comfortable." Tim spreads it out and lounges carefully, twitching when a stray blade of hay pokes him, looking like such a city kid Kon really wants to laugh. He settles down against the wall and watches them for a sec, breathing hay and cow and diesel. The usual smells of the barn, the current smells of his life. Tim and Bart look like they're from another universe, in the middle of that.

"So here I am." When they look up he spreads his hands and tries to look grateful. "You guys totally planned this, and I appreciate it, but…"

Tim tilts his head. Bart's propped his chin on his elbow on his knee. Kon swallows. "I can't. I can't come back. I feel like… I'm supposed to be out here, in Smallville. Being ordinary. Being Conner. I see you guys and— I've barely flown in weeks, you know? Till today. You guys make me… someone I don't deserve to be."

Kon actually wasn't expecting that whole speech to come out of his mouth. But it did. And Tim and Bart listened to it, and they're not arguing. They're not even making themselves not argue. They just look quiet.

Tim takes a breath, and Kon braces himself for whatever devastating comment is gonna blow everything he just said apart. But Tim just breathes out again. "Cissie says hi, too."

Bart's right next to Kon again. "She says she understands, and now you do too."

Ow. Kon looks at his knees, and at Bart's narrow knee leaning against his, the one that got shot. He can hear Tim pull off the hoodie, and he only catches Tim's footsteps because his hearing flares on, and when he looks up Tim's beside him wearing a white T-shirt with dark purple lettering that spells out, "Spoiler."

Oh. More ow. Kon shakes his head, and Tim's smile is narrow and tight and Robin. "We're not here to talk you into coming back," Tim says softly, slipping to his knees. He said that before, when he got here, but now Kon can feel the words gently denting his skull. From the inside.

"We're here to see you, Kon. Because we miss you." Bart doesn't say it like it's totally-fucking-obvious; he says it like it's true. And he kisses Kon again, which at least means the talking's over.

Then it feels good. Then it feels so good it's almost unbearable. Kon gasps, and Bart pushes, and all he can smell is Bart's hair and Tim's skin, and all he can feel are the hands on his face and his chest and his fly and holy crap. Tim kisses Bart's cheek and Bart leans away but Tim takes over and there's a hand in Kon's fly and Tim's tongue wetting his lips and Bart's hair slip-hisses over his shirt. Someone tugs at his jacket and someone tugs at his dick and god he's just missed the way a friendly hand feels, missed the way his friends smelled, missed having friends. He couldn't've coped without them, he couldn't've coped if he'd—

Tim bites his lip so hard Kon has to suppress a TK flare, and then bites it again and the pain's hot and sweet and bright and Tim's hair is soft around Kon's fingers and he needs to remember not to squeeze. He's not gonna squeeze. Even if that has to be Bart's mouth on him, and damn it's hot, and he can't think. He's up against the wall of the hayloft under the window and Tim's kissing him and Bart's sucking him off and everything's just gone but this breath, this moment, this sensation. Tim's tight hands on his shoulders, Tim's tongue in his mouth, Bart's hand around the base of his dick and Bart's tongue— it's fast but it's not flicking, those are long dragging licks but they're at speed, and Kon would use his own speed to feel them individually but he's too busy groaning into Tim's mouth as his eyes roll back in his head. His eyes feel hot. That makes him remember, no, no—

Tim bites him again, raking his lip and pulling back, hands sliding up his neck to frame his face, fingertips pressing the outside corners of his eyelids. Kon's so startled he opens his eyes, and he doesn't see red. He only sees blue, Tim's blue eyes bare inches in front of his, and the light in them is glittery and pale. Kon thinks of Raven showing him his soul, and almost wonders if that's what Tim's seeing, as Bart goes down like Kon's a triple-scoop cone and Kon can't wonder anything, can't see anything, can barely feel his head roll back and bonk the wall, and it feels like his own heat vision flashes into him, through him as he comes.

The first things he feels after that are Bart's chin on his thigh and Tim's fingers on his face.

The next thing he feels is the crick of his neck tipped back and the cracklebreeze as Bart grabs Tim and kisses him. By the time Kon's head is up Tim's giving as good as he's getting and whoa, they're right in front of his face, wet and hard and licking each other's mouths, Tim's fingers tight in Bart's hair and Bart's blurred on Tim's fly. Right.

Tim grunts and pulls on Bart's hair till Bart lets go. Kon's still gasping. Bart's mouth is red and wet and open and if Kon can make his hands move he's gonna grab Bart and kiss him, but Tim says, "Wait," to Bart and strips off his shirt, and they're both too busy watching Tim's skin appear. Tim has the most scars of anyone Kon's ever seen naked, and next to metas like him and Bart, Tim looks like anything could break him and nothing ever would.

He doesn't have any new scars on his arm.

Tim catches Kon checking, and smirks gently, but his eyes are so open. Bart makes this little impatient growl that hits Kon low and sweet, and he's naked. Speedster. Damn. How the—

They are so not giving Kon time to think. They kiss again, Bart's arms around Tim's neck, at least he starts there, and Kon's hands had a great idea without him because they're on Bart and Tim's backs— how did Tim get scars on his back— and sliding down and Bart has the pertest little ass ever. Tim's is so firm a guy could break a finger squeezing it. Kon squeezes both and they both moan and they're too far apart, kneeling over his legs.

So he lifts them into his lap. Well, drags. They don't really seem to care, Bart's naked legs tangled up with Tim's denim-covered ones, and their hands around each other's dicks, and Kon can feel them both gasping and shaking, sweaty and breathless with their ribs heaving under his hands, Bart's skin soft and smooth, Tim's soft between slick discontinuous scars. Kon is so gonna be hard again in—

Just about now, because Bart shakes right into vibrating, and his hand on Tim's a blur till Tim whimpers, and Kon can see Bart stopping himself on each stroke or it'd still be a blur. It's just wild, it's what he wanted to do back when it was just the three of them and their sleeping bags and they didn't even know Tim's name, and somehow Kon's mouth wound up in Tim's hair and he can feel Tim's pulse throbbing against his lips, and Bart's forehead creases as he makes this row of sharp-edged broken noises and comes, his whole body jerking.

And he doesn't stop vibrating. In fact Bart's a little blurry, and he loses Tim's mouth as he slumps, and Tim doesn't fall back so much as writhe up over Kon's arm, moaning high and desperate-sounding, and that's definetely a scream Tim just muffled in Kon's shoulder as he comes.

Bart's already looking up at Kon, grinning like he just had the best thought ever, and he wraps his hand, all wet and hot with Tim's come, around Kon's dick, and vibrates double-time. He says something, but Kon's can't hear anything at the moment except his own brain blowing up.

Wow, Kon eventually thinks. Tim's head is under his chin. Bart's is under Tim's. His shirt's a wreck, and Tim's wiping his hands, because he would have something with him even if he didn't have his belt on under there, and Bart wiggles out to look up and check if Kon's still sentient. If he ever was. Bart nods, grins and tucks himself back again, and as Kon's brain slowly solidifies he manages to realize a couple of things.

One is that he's being cuddled. He's totally being cuddled. Just like on the roof, except nakedly this time, so kinda even more so. Tim's jeans and boxer-briefs are around his knees at this point, they don't really count. It's probably not exactly ordinary American masculine behavior, but Kon could care less about that at the moment.

Another is that Tim and Bart trusted him not to squash them in the throes of passion, as the phrase goes. Knowing, more than ever, what kind of damage he can inflict. He really doesn't deserve that, but the impulse to flee is held down by the thought that this is a gift, the kind of thing Aunt Martha had that talk with him about "being a gracious recipient" about. He sighs and leans against the wall a little bit more, and Tim and Bart lean on him.

A third thing Kon realizes, is that they're warm, and the pleasant kind of sweaty, and pretty much naked, in his lap. And the Kents are, eventually, gonna come looking for him.

Tim was probably waiting for him to realize that. "We'd better get dressed," he says just at that moment, shifting off Kon, and only the fact that his cheeks are two shades pinker than usual gives him away. If he weren't Bat-pale a person probably wouldn't even notice.

"Kon, say something." Bart's suddenly in his face, dressed and blocking his view, and when he can see anything again Tim's dressed too. "You're never this quiet."

"You're one to talk." Kon tries to ruffle Bart's hair, and Bart grins and ducks. Kon grins back, pulls off his shirt and zips up his jeans, and stands up. Tim's hood's up over his hair, Bart's got his dorky cap back on. They look like they're ready to go, and as cool as if they hadn't just tackled him to the floor and come sitting in his lap, and Kon really has to laugh, harder when Tim gives him the eyebrow and Bart's eyes go round.

Then he has to stop, because he's only laughing because it hurts. "It's like— the old days, when we were Young Justice. Before YJ. Before…" Before things seemed like they had consequences. Before Kon left Hawaii. Before anyone died.

"Before we met Anita, and Cissie." Bart looks… not bummed, but still. Almost quiet. Way too quiet.

"Cassie, and Greta." Tim's arms fold up a little tighter.

"Before Max disappeared." Bart sighs, and Kon really wants something hard enough to bang his head against. But Bart smiles, because Bart always smiles, and he says, "We're here, now."

And Tim smiles, one of those little smiles he really means, even though he says, "We should probably get going."

"Yeah," Kon says, because he it's not like he can ask them to stay.

"Um. Batgirl's not in Bludhaven at the moment, but when she gets back I'll tell her you said hi." Tim looks at Kon, and Kon nods and tries to think of something not completely stupid to say, and looks at Tim back.

At least till Bart tackles Kon against the wall and kisses him. "Bye, Kon." Bart smiles, fast-wide-bright, and kisses him again. "You'll always be a Titan. Don't forget."

"Come back when you're ready." Tim's still kinda far away. And then he isn't, looking right up into Kon's eyes. Kon blinks, and Tim smiles, wide enough for anyone not just him, but it doesn't look like an act. And he kisses Kon, too.

Then Tim smiles at Bart, who crackles away and reappears in his suit, and wraps his arm around Tim's waist, and they're both gone.

Kon stands there for a moment, a little stunned. After a moment he pulls on his jacket and looks out the window. Bart's track is already gone, but the stars are still out there. So's the Tower. So's the world.

All this evening Kon kept forgetting to hate himself. Bart and Tim don't. Cassie and Raven don't. The Titans don't. Maybe, eventually…

Kon looks down at the hay around his feet, but he still smiles.